


Burning Down the House

by LittleMissPixieStix



Category: Team Fortress 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 08:08:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5860900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissPixieStix/pseuds/LittleMissPixieStix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t their fault.  </p><p>It really wasn’t.  Well, it shouldn’t be.</p><p>Pyro had just been stressed lately.  Things just hadn’t been going right, or feeling right, lately.  They had just wanted to feel better, that was all.</p><p>Burning Scout's magazine had just been an accidental side effect of that.  They just hoped that he wasn't too mad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning Down the House

**Author's Note:**

> You can find this fic on Tumblr here: http://littlemissfemscout.tumblr.com/post/137415295022/burning-down-the-house  
> Likes and reblogs are appreciated, but by no means required. =)

It wasn’t their fault.  

It really wasn’t.  Well, it shouldn’t be.

Pyro had just been stressed lately.  Things just hadn’t been going right, or feeling right, lately.  

Fights had been going poorly, causing a loop of bad feelings which caused a poor performance over and over and over.  Free time had been so gray lately.  There was no other way to explain it.  It had been gray, black and white, bleak and weird.  Not right at all.

Sometimes when they were alone, their chest would pound and their heart would race.  It felt like the world was closing in around them until they managed to find a way to calm down.  Fire helped.  Fire was the only thing that helped them calm down lately.

So it wasn’t their fault.

They had needed something to burn, something to chase the feeling away.  Scout had left that magazine out on the table.  Anything left out was free to grab.  Engineer had told them that they should really check first and not just grab, but it was hard to remember when the stressful, unfun feelings hit and they just needed to burn _something._

How were they supposed to know that Scout’s magazine was important to him?  It wasn’t even a sports magazine, it didn’t look like one, so how were they supposed to know it was his? 

Sure, they had felt the teeniest, weeniest guilty  when they flicked the lighter open and set the corner on fire.  The flames twitching as the wind teased them soon offered some much needed calm for their speeding, reckless mind.  The pages curling as they burned were hypnotic, and any concern that Pyro felt was going up into smoke as quickly as the paper was.

So it hadn’t really been their fault. 

But then they had heard Scout asking around, seeing if anyone ha seen, or stolen, his limited edition Tom Jones-signed, mint, though not unusual, June 1967 issue of Chills and Fever that was part of his Jones memorabilia collection.  

And then Pyro felt absolutely horrible.

Oh, they had been so bad.  Bad, bad, bad, horrible, terrible.  They were a horrible terrible.  They were the most horrible terrible to terrible horrible.

When Scout found out, he was going to be furious.  He was going to be so, so, so, _so very_  angry with them.

They hadn’t wanted to make him angry.  They liked Scout.  Sometimes they hugged, and watched movies together, and played board games down in Engineer’s workplace.  Sometimes they even kissed.

And now they were never ever going to ever get to kiss him again.  

Scout was going to be too angry to ever kiss them.  When he found out that Pyro had burned it, he was never going to ever look at them again, and if he did it was going to be a mean look.  They deserved a mean look after what they did unfortunately.

It was sorta kinda their fault.

It took Scout only two days to come and ask Pyro about it.  They hadn’t come by to see him and whenever he knocked on their door they hadn’t answered, instead throwing what was left of their singed blanket on top of themselves to hide.

Today, though, Scout had smelled the smoke from inside the room, alerting him to the fact that Pyro was inside.  When his knocks were met by silencing, he announced he was coming in, waiting a minute before he did so.  

Pyro, defeated and preparing for a deserved scolding, stayed tucked in the corner of the room, clutching the burn-spotted blanket.  Their masked head didn’t move away from the scrap paper they were burning - they knew it was scrap because they had asked Engineer first - but their eyes moved behind the tinted lenses to follow Scout’s movement.

It was always an experience when Scout stepped into this room.  Scribbles were found on every single wall, and not just on a taped-up paper, but also on the walls themselves.  Ash always decorated the floor, but the piles from what Pyro had been stress-burning over the last couple of days had produced enough to make a small carpet out of.  

Adding to the dark atmosphere of the room - dark because Pyro preferred it dark so the fire could glow brighter - the word “bad” could be found staining the walls, written over and over, providing a stark contrast to the doodles of team mates smiling together, enemies on fire, bleeding, and dying, and bright Balloonicorns and rainbows that otherwise decorated the walls.  

If Scout had looked closely, he would have seen that one of the stick drawings of him had been giving a sharp frown, and down turned eyebrows, on top of the formerly grinning, joyful face.  He didn’t look, though.  He was more focused on the team mate in front of him.

“Hey,” Scout said cautiously.  The Engineer had pointed him in this direction after asking the man about his magazine for the fifth time, seemingly clued in by Pyro asking before taking some of his paper.  

The only other thing the Texan had told him was that he needed to be nice.  Scout’s anger and annoyance was understandable, but he didn’t need to go in screaming and shouting.  That would get the two of them nowhere fast.

That was also a fact Scout understood too well.  He was loud and obnoxious at times, sure, but he knew how terrifying someone could be when they were pissed.  He wasn’t coming in here to cause a problem, but rather to fix one.

Pyro still hadn’t responded to him.  They couldn’t.  They thought that maybe if they stayed silent and focused on the fire, then maybe everything would be okay again.  Maybe Scout wouldn’t be angry.

Who were they kidding?  He was totally going to be angry.

After all, it was their fault.

“Hey,” He said again, slowly crouching down to get down to their position,  
Pyro.  Talk to me, buddy.”

All he got in response was a shake of their head.

He responded by moving closer to them, the sudden movement causing Pyro to jerk the flaming paper back away from him, inadvertently snuffing the flames with their fire-proof gloves.  If they hadn’t already been pressed back against the corner as much as possible, they they would have shrunk back further into it.

“Engie told me that you’ve been acting weird for a couple days,” Scout said patiently, “Two days, actually.  The same time my magazine went missing.  You know anything about that?”

Pyro’s breath hitched and, for a moment, all they did was breathe nervously.

“Mmm-” They started shaking slightly, tears pricking at the corners of their wide, though still hidden, eyes, “...Mmmmybe?”

“Would ya’ mind sliding the mask up, Py?” Scout asked, shifting to sit on his ass instead of standing on the balls of his feet, “I wanna to talk to you.”

But didn’t he understand that they didn’t want to talk to him?  Well, they did, but not like this.  Not when they were going to get in so much trouble.  Not when they could just sit there and try to pretend it never happened.

They shook their head again, but Scout persisted.

“Please, Py?” He said, resting a hand on their arm, “It’ll be easier to talk that way.”

“Mmkay,” They said after hesitating again, reluctantly lifting the mask up just barely enough.  Lifting the mask up was scary sometimes, especially at times like this, because they couldn’t see as well then 

When they knew that Scout was happy, it was fine.  But now?  Now it was intimidating.  The only other option they had right now was to take the mask off completely, and they weren’t ready for that yet.  Even as uncomfortable as they were, they at least owed Scout an attempt at a conversation.

And that was because it was their fault.

“What?” They said, their lithe voice quiet, “What do you want me to say, Scout?”

“Want you to say you’re sorry,” Scout said, making sure to keep his voice even.  He had grown up with brothers that grew angry when they wanted an apology, and others that had quietly spoken when they wanted one.  He knew which brothers he liked better.  

“I’m sorry, okay?  I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, _I’m sorry_ ,” They said, the words littered with desperate panicking, “I’m sorry, Scout, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

“I can wait,” He interrupted, slouching slightly.   Scout also knew that if it wasn’t a real apology, then there was no way to feel better because of it.  It had to be the real deal.   

“Wait?  For what?” Pyro asked, that uncomfortable feeling growing in their chest and tummy, “I apologized.”

“I want a really apology, Py, not a scared one,” Scout admitted, “So I’ll wait here until you’re ready.  Take your time, bud, take a deep breath or somethin’, okay?”

Was he serious?  Take a deep breath?  Was that all he thought it took for them to feel better?  It wasn’t.  It really wasn’t.  In fact, they might have even gotten angry about him thinking that.

Except for the fact that all of this was their fault.

“Deep breaths don’t help,” They said, their voice barely above a whisper.  The pounding in their chest had gotten worse, and they had also begun to feel dizzy.

“What’d’ya mean?  You, uh, tried them?”

“Uh huh.” They said tiredly.

“And they don’t help?”

“Huh uh.”

“What does help?” Scout asked, carefully scooting closer.

“Burning stuff.”

“That why you’ve been like a smoke factory lately?” Scout asked, “I mean, you’re usually pretty smoky, but it’s been a lot of burning this last week.

“Yeah.” They said slowly.

“Is that really the only thing that helps?”

“...Um,” Pyro paused, “...no.”

Scout sat up slightly.

“So what else helps?”

“These, uh, pills,” They tried to curl up tighter, “I stopped taking them a bit ago.  I didn’t like them.”

“How’s that been working out for you?”

“Oh, shut up,” They grumbled, swatting at Scout.

“Hey, I’m being serious.” Scout said, “You probably shouldn’t, you know, stop taking the things, ‘specially if they were helping.”

“But I _don’t_ like them.”

“You likin’ this?”

What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you likin’ how you’re feelin’ noe any better?”

“...No.  Not any better,” They admitted, following it up with, “But I still don’t wanna take them.”

“Why?” Scout asked, 

“Because they make me tired.  I don’t like being tired,” Pyro said, “And sometimes they make me feel confused and I don’t know.  I don’t like them anymore.”

“Then talk to Doc and find something you do like,” Scout said, “You can’t keep burning everything you can find forever, Pyro.  An’ you can’t keep ignoring the problem either.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re gonna burn yourself out.”

“...Isn’t that a good thing for a Pyro?”

“Nah, it ain’t.  Means your gonna get tired,” Scout said, “You gotta take better care of yourself, Py.”

“But it’s hard.”

“I know it’s hard.  Still kinda need you to,” Scout said gently, “I care too much about ya’ ta’ let ya’ not.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes,” Scout said, “After you find a real apology somewhere inside yourself, we’re gonna go get that pill-thing figured out.”

Scout shouldn’t have to be pushing them to do this, to take the stuff they were supposed to.  They really probably maybe shouldn’t have stopped in the first place, even if they didn’t like the things.

So this was also their fault.

The thought was sobering, a huge gray cloud hanging over the playground of their mind, and they sighed, sagging in tired defeat.

“I guess I hafta’ take the things again.  Not gonna get better without them, you’re right.” Pyro said with a sad mope of a sigh, tears stinging their eyes once more, “I’m sorry, Scout.  I’m sorry you have to come down here and make me do this.  I’m sorry you had to come down here.  I’m sorry I burned your magazine.  Scout-...I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

Scout had been ready to give Pyro a reassuring pat on the arm.  He had not been ready for them to throw themselves at him, desperate for a hug.  Despite his lack of preparedness, he managed to catch them and keep the two of them upright, offering a strong hug in return.

“That’s all I wanted to hear,” Scout said, patting and rubbing at their back, “I forgive you.”

“Do you really mean it?” They asked, giving a strong sniff as some tears ran down their face.  They were going to be so snotty later, but right now, it didn’t matter.

”I can always get another magazine, Pyro,” Scout told them, “It ain’t like Tom Jones is dead yet or anything.  I’m just collecting the stuff to sell when he kicks it.  I just need to get another one, I can do that.  It’s okay.  It’s okay.” 

“You sure?” They asked, giving another, bigger, sniff.

“Yeah, I am,” Scout said, “Just don’t, you know, burn my stuff without asking first, okay?”

“I won’t.”

“Cool.” He said, “Now stop crying already.  You’re gonna get all goopy inside your helmet and gross and stuff.”

“Too late,” They said with a congested laugh, finally letting go of Scout.

“Hey, it ain’t my problem,” He told them, “Actually...”

Slowly, the boy moved forward, getting close enough to give the firebug a kiss, but he didn’t.  He waited, giving Pyro the chance to move forward or move back.  They didn’t move at all.

After a minute, Scout only had so much patience after all, the boy finally spoke.

“Py, are you going to give me a liplock or not?  I’m right here waiting, pally.”

 “You’re what?” Pyro asked, feeling around, “Oh, oh.  I didn’t see you there.”

“You didn-” Scout stopped, “Oh, right, mask.  Forgot you can’t see when you do that.”

“Do I still get a kiss?”

“Hell yeah, you do,” Scout said before he leaned in and gave them a gentle peck on the lips.  After another minute passed, this one ending far too soon, Scout gave Pyro’s masked face a smile,“You alright with talking to Doc or Engie now?”

“I-...Yeah.  Probably should,” They admitted, slowly standing up, “But you have to come with me, okay?”

“Okay.” Scout said, also rising to his feet, “I’ll be right there with you, Py.”

The two of them headed for the door, but Pyro doubled back right after Scout stepped out into the hall.

“Are you bailing already?” He asked them.

“No, no, just need to do something first,” They said, pulling their mask back down, “Gmm onmm ammhead.”

“I am not going on ahead, thank you very much,” Scout said, taking a step back as he crossed his arms, “I’m gonna be waiting right here ‘til you come back out.”

Quickly searching, knowing the room’s messy layout by heart, they found their black crayon.  It did take a bit of sweeping ash’s around, but they managed to find it.  Turning, they found the drawing of Scout they doodled back over, and they readied the crayon as they drew back over it once more.  

The frown they had given Scout was drawn over with a a large smile, and to cover the eyebrows, the bill of the drawing’s cap was brought down really low.

As they leaned back, they smiled to themselves, already coming up with ways to draw over the rest of the markings they had made out of sadness and despair.

Maybe, just maybe, they weren’t so bad after all.

After putting the crayon back down where they knew they could find it, Pyro joined Scout out in the hallway, and the two of them walked together to go find Engineer or Medic.  Probably Engineer, then Medic.

Even if they hadn’t been given anything else to take yet, they were already starting to feel so much better.  A weight had been lifted, and it felt like they could breathe easier now.  At least as easily as they usually could.

It had been their fault.

But now that they had apologized, and now that Scout was no longer angry and instead by their side, they felt like everything was going to be okay.

And, really, how could they ask for more than that?

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna play a game of Spot that Tom Jones Reference? =D


End file.
